Helping Case
by AnnCarter
Summary: When Sherlock find himself in need of help, he calls the only person who could help him. House find himself storming into London... and in greater danger than he can ever imagine. House S7, Sherlock S2.
1. Chapter 1

**Name:** Helping Case.

**Writer:** Ann.

**Fandom:** House/Sherlock Crossover.

**Rating:** PG13.

**Timeline:** House- S7, still in Huddy time. Sherlock- After 2X01.

**All rights for House reserved to Fox and the creators and all rights for Sherlock reserved to the BBC. I don't own anything (unfortunately).**

* * *

**Prologue.**

_June 3rd, 2001_

"I gave that speech. Can we go now? This conference is more boring than Wilson's cousin."

"Hey!" Wilson seemed slightly annoyed.

"Come on," House replied as the three walked out of the conference hall, "We both know she's one of the most boring people on this planet. Remind me again why I'm here?" He asked, turning to Cuddy.

"Because," Cuddy's voice was patient, "You're a head of department at Princeton Plainsboro, even If you're barely _doing_ anything with it. Just like every other head of department in the hospital, you're here to get better as a doctor."

"Give me a puzzle, that'll make me a better doctor! I even prefer doing clinic hours over going to a conference in Rainville." He retorted, ignoring Cuddy's doubting look. He never liked going to conferences, simply because he was too well known, and therefore he had to interact with way more people than he would have liked.

"I thought you liked London." Wilson sounded slightly confused.

"I do." House's voice was once again low.

"Then what's the problem?"

The only problem with coming to London for the conference was the city's problematic weather. Ever since they arrived to London three days earlier it was raining. It has not even stopped for long enough for House to drive to the Thames, a half an hour drive from the hotel. He loved London, but the non-stopping rain drove him nuts. Especially when it meant he had to remain at the conference. True, he spent some of the conference time with Wilson at the hotel's bar, but he still had to be present at more lectures than he wanted to be in.

"The damn rain," He murmured, not noticing his right hand that immediately started rubbing his right leg.

"That's London." A man said behind them. He was British, clearly one of London's citizens. He had blue-grey eyes which indicated wisdom and curly dark hair that gave him a slightly boyish look. He did not look like a doctor, but he appeared to have a doctor's badge, and so all shook his hand. "Doctor Holmes," He introduced himself after the three introduced themselves.

"What's your specialty?" House asked, ignoring Wilson and Cuddy's attempts to stop him. They should have already known he asks what he wants to ask, no matter what others say. Besides, that Holmes guy intrigued him. For some reason he felt a need to ask as much as he could about him.

A small smile crossed Holmes' face. "I'm a diagnostician," He replied quietly.

For the first time since they arrived the conference, House's eyes lit up. He had already met a few Nephrologists and a few Infectious experts, but none of them interested him more than a few minutes, nor did any of them want to talk to him for more than that, not after all he told them about themselves and the way he said that. But during the first two days of the conference House did not find even one man who truly seemed to interest him, especially not a fellow diagnostician. Most hospitals around the world have yet to realize how important such department is.

"Call me Greg," House briefly smiled at him, his pure blue eyes still focused on the other man. He was intent on learning everything he could on the other man, but from his appearance all he could learn was that he was single and absolutely not a doctor. The latter did not show on the way he behaved, but on the small things only House had noticed- his slight, millisecond hesitation before talking about medicine, the way there was not one lecture circled in the conference's paper he was carrying and yet he appeared on most of them, and the way he seemed to be looking for someone specific. The last one did not exactly show him he was not a medical doctor, but he had a hunch it was related to it.

"Sherlock." As if they were sharing the same mind, they both turned towards the bar.

"I did my lecture," House called back towards Wilson and Cuddy, "I'm done here. Find me when we leave for our flight."

* * *

_November 11th, 2010_

John woke up to the sound of a violin. He listened carefully, trying to determine his friend's mood by the way he played his violin. The violin did not sound relaxed, and so he realized he still hasn't found the solution to the mystery he was currently working on. It did not seem like a complicated investigation to Sherlock at first, but it appeared he was wrong. John could not help but be happy that he did not turn back to his gun. As lovely as the smiley on the wall was, he preferred the walls the way they were.

He walked downstairs to find Sherlock on the sofa, playing his violin as he had heard. His eyes were closed, yet he clearly noticed John's entrance. "Can you get me my phone?" He asked, not even bothering with 'good morning'. John looked around for a moment before locating the cellphone on the table in the kitchen. He quickly brought it to Sherlock, who stopped playing the violin and turned to his cellphone. "Thanks."

"How's the investigation going?" John asked as he sat down in one of the chairs.

"I'm stuck." Sherlock sounded slightly frustrated. "I'm going to need help."

That sentence surprised him. He had never heard Sherlock admitting he needs help solving a case. He was usually the helper, not the one who needed help. "Who are you calling?" John asked as he noticed Sherlock's phone was already by his ear as he waited for someone to pick up the phone on the other side.

Sherlock ignored him. "Doctor House?" He asked. "It's Doctor Holmes." John looked at him questioningly, only to be ignored. "What do you see we'll meet for a drink?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1-**

Cuddy was not surprised when House burst into her office that morning. She had already prepared herself for being asked for some crazy procedure, more money for his department or get new underwear that he would ask her to wear that night. To her surprise, what he had to say was not even close to what she had expected.

"I heard there's a Nephrology conference in London next week." He said, stopping in front of her and gazing at her intently.

She glanced at her laptop screen and was not surprised to see that he was right. When House 'heard' something, it usually meant he checked it out and knew exactly what was going on. "Yes, there is. I don't suppose you-"

"-Wanna go? Geez, why didn't you ask me? I'd love to," He said in that fake lightness tone he used to have when he wanted something.

"You want to go to a conference? After you've been refusing to go for the past few years? And to one in 'Rainville'?" She quoted, remembering the last conference in London they have both been in. "What happened, we've been moved to another dimension?"

"Hey, I like London!" He replied. "Plus, I did go to a conference last year."

"Yeah, because Wilson made you and you knew I'd be there," She retorted.

He rolled his eyes. "That's just specifics. What do I need to do to get there?" He asked, his tone more serious.

"You do know you have a case?"

"As an inner voice keeps telling me, they're big kids. They can handle without me. Plus, I think they already invented cellphones," He added sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. "Wilson keeps telling me that too," She muttered to herself. The truth was she just did not want House's team working on a complicated case without his help. But he was right. She was just being paranoid. He would have a phone, nothing bad can happen. "Fine. I'll get your plane and hotel reservations."

"Thank you." He turned to leave.

"But," He froze, "You're gonna give a speech. One of the doctors who were supposed to give a speech had to cancel, and they asked if someone from Princeton Plainsboro can do it instead. It's an hour long. I'll send you the timetable," She added.

He turned back to her, grimacing. "C'mon. I can't give a speech. My leg-"

"-Is fine," She cut him off. "You're gonna give that speech, or you're not going. Decide."

He grimaced again. "Fine."

"Great. Be at the airport on Monday at nine AM." She turned back to her work.

"Whoa, what?" He turned back to her again. "I need an earlier flight."

"Why?"

"Time difference will be extra hard on me." He tried.

"Right." She knew him too well to believe any of it.

He hesitated for a moment before leaning towards her. "I'm telling you this as your boyfriend. I need to meet with somebody. He needs my help, but I'm gonna have to fly out of here in the next forty-eight hours."

She frowned. "You're going on a consolation?" She asked, surprised. He nodded. "Okay. I'll get you a flight as soon as I can." He turned to leave at the third time, and was once again stopped by her voice. "Rachel's missing you. She asked me where you were yesterday twice." Her voice was soft.

House's voice softened as well. "I'll try to stop by tonight," was all he said before leaving the office, leaving her alone, wondering who he would possible counsel and why.

* * *

"Of course!"

Sherlock was sitting on the couch in the flat, his eyes remaining closed as he entered his mind palace. He thought, put all the facts together, and tried to figure out the solution to the case he was working on. He had already figured out it was all Moriarty's work, but he could not yet figure out two things- the first, what sort of game he was playing, and the second, what diseases he was working on. Which was why he needed House.

"He got the specimens from the hospital! No one knows who he really is so he would have no trouble reaching them, and they would never admit that they lost specimens meant for research. They'd just say they were used. It all makes sense. John!" He opened his eyes, only to find out his only friend was gone. "Where is he? He was here a moment ago," He muttered to himself as he got up.

"Sherlock!" John walked into the flat, holding a few nylon bags filled with groceries. "You're awake." He did not seem surprised to see him in the living room.

"Where have you been? Don't answer," He continued quickly, already knowing he was at the supermarket three blocks away, "How long have you been gone to? I was just talking to you!"

"You always are." John stated as he put down the groceries. "What were you talking about this time?"

"The specimens- Never mind. Let's go," He added as he wore his long coat.

"Where are we going?" John followed him as he walked out of their living room and down the stairs towards the front door.

"To the hospital. We missed a clue. Taxi!" He quickly stopped a taxi and entered it. A moment later both John and he were seated inside the taxi, on their to St. Bartholomew's Hospital. John listened quietly as Sherlock quickly explained to him his conclusion and the way he reached it. As always, he thought it was brilliant. The truth was that even though Sherlock pretended not to care, he truly enjoyed hearing that his deductions were brilliant every time. It had a fun bit to it.

They got out of the black taxi and quickly hurried up towards the lab. Sherlock was not surprised to see Molly when he walked inside, and was even less surprised to see other than her it was empty. It was early in the morning, and people were yet to arrive, which gave him the time to conduct his search.

"Molly." He acknowledged her as he walked inside. John walked in after him, nodding at her and quietly saying "good morning". Sherlock ignored both of them, focusing on finding the records of the last tests that were made. "Where do they keep the records of their specimens?" He asked at last, turning back to her.

"Downstairs, why-"

"Of course," He muttered to himself before hurrying outside. He was downstairs in a couple of minutes, and making sure no one else was around, he started looking into the records, looking for the missing specimens. He heard John and Molly walking in after him, and once again ignored them, deciding to explain everything later, as he always does. Instead he focused on the search, every few minutes giving either of them a short order as to the door and the other records.

"Sherlock!" It was John's voice. "I think I found it!"

Sherlock turned around and walked towards him, his steps are short and determined. He reached John in a moment and reached out for the records. He then quickly read it, wrote a note to himself using his smartphone, and returned it to John, who was looking at him with his best "what have you got" look he had had so far.

"What's going on?" Molly looked surprised and not understanding. He could not help but think about how simple it must have been not to be him.

"I have a case. I needed to make sure I was right," He replied shortly before leaving. He heard John saying a few more words to Molly before he joined him on his way out of the hospital. "I was right," He informed him the moment he joined him, "It's Moriarty. He took the specimens, and for some reason he threatens to start giving them to people. I have no idea why, but don't worry, I will find out, and I invited an expert to help us with the case. Taxi!"

* * *

"Hi, kiddo." House smiled at Rachel as she hugged him. "Don't worry, I'll be back in no time. Look after your mom, okay?" Both his eyes and his voice were soft. It was the first time Cuddy had seen him that way with her daughter, but he did not mind. The truth was he started caring for Rachel, and the little girl seemed to like him as well.

She nodded. "Okay." She replied in a small voice.

He then got up, heavily leaning on his tale. She hugged him and gently pressed her lips to his. "We'll be waiting." She said quietly. It was one of those moments she was completely relaxed and as such showed him every bit of her feelings towards him. "Enjoy the conference."

"Thanks, honey." He pulled her into a long kiss before releasing her and turning around towards the taxi that was waiting for him outside Cuddy's house. "I'll send you some postcards." Rachel giggled, and he could not help but smile.

"By the way," She stopped him right before he entered the taxi, "I think you'll be happy to know Wilson is free this week. And there's an extra reservation for the flight." She added.

He smiled. "Thanks. Change of plans," He turned to the driver and quickly gave him Wilson's address. "I'll see you in a week or so," He called towards Rachel and Cuddy before closing the taxi's door. They drove to Wilson's apartment, where House was not surprised to see him ready to leave.

"Cuddy filled me in yesterday," He said as they put his suitcases in the taxi's trunk. "We thought you'd be happy to have some company."

House grinned. "Who else can I drink with?" He asked as they sat down. Wilson just grinned back, knowing regardless of the amount of drinks they were going to get, House was happy that he joined.

* * *

_November 13th, 2010_

Sherlock seemed restless as John and he waited at the airport for the plane from New Jersey. While John remained seated, Sherlock kept walking around Heathrow Airport, glancing at his watch every now and then. He could no longer count the amount of walks Sherlock took that afternoon. He sighed quietly as he watched his restless friend, hoping the plane would land soon so that they would meet the expert Sherlock called in.

"Where on Earth can he be?" Sherlock muttered at the God-knows-how-many-time that afternoon. "His plane landed over half an hour ago. There were barely any lines. Most of the people on that flight are already here. What can possibly take him this long?"

"Didn't you say he was crippled?" John asked, looking up.

"It's a problem in his leg; it's not that his leg is gone!"

"Still-"

"Sherlock!" It was a new voice, with an American accent. Both men immediately turned towards the man who called the detective, and Sherlock was not surprised to see it was the blue eyed crippled doctor he remembered from a few years earlier. There was another man with him, someone Sherlock remembered was called Wilson. He also remembered he was House's best friend, which explained the fact that he was there with him. Not that he could not understand it on his own by the way the stood together. Longtime friends.

"Greg!" He walked towards him and they briefly shook hands when they met. "I need your help." John glanced at him in surprise. Sherlock did not response. "This is John, John, that's Greg. We met in a medical conference a few years back."

"Holmes…" Wilson seemed to remember him. "We met you in that medical conference ten years ago. You said you're a diagnostician."

"I am, in a way." He replied quickly, seriously. "Greg, I need your help," He repeated.

"Sounds good enough for me." House grinned at Wilson for a moment before turning to Sherlock. "What is this about?"


End file.
